


Always

by Heiwako



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Drama, Gen, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:03:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiwako/pseuds/Heiwako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Copyright Bethesda<br/>Comments appreciated<br/>A/N: This story was inspired by Skyrim Kink Meme. The prompt was to write a story inspired by the first random song that came up on your song list. I got "Always" by Saliva.</p><p> </p><p>  <a class="external" href="http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3_x3ci49Mk">[link]</a></p><p> </p><p>I feel conflicted about this one. I liked it when I wrote it, but I feel it really heavily depends on knowing the song lyrics to really get what I was going for. Also, it's just so short compared to my other works.</p><p>Still when writing Cicero alone, it's hard to really do a lot since dialogue isn't really an option.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright Bethesda  
> Comments appreciated  
> A/N: This story was inspired by Skyrim Kink Meme. The prompt was to write a story inspired by the first random song that came up on your song list. I got "Always" by Saliva.
> 
>  
> 
> [[link]](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3_x3ci49Mk)
> 
>  
> 
> I feel conflicted about this one. I liked it when I wrote it, but I feel it really heavily depends on knowing the song lyrics to really get what I was going for. Also, it's just so short compared to my other works.
> 
> Still when writing Cicero alone, it's hard to really do a lot since dialogue isn't really an option.
> 
> Enjoy!

29th of Last Seed, 4E 191 

_Garnag is gone. Gone gone gone gone gone. Left to get food, but he'll be back. It's only been three months. Three months. Tree months? Twelve moths? Four sloths!_  
  
Cicero sighed as he placed his quill on the table. His hand was shaking so badly, it was impossible to return it to the inkpot. His precious journal was carefully put away with the rest of the tomes that held the records of his personal thoughts. 

Alone, he was alone. Always, always, always alone. 

The Imperial stood up and stretched before going to the main room where the Night Mother's coffin rested. 

"Speak to me, Mother," Cicero crooned gently. He lovingly ran his hand down the cold iron casket. "Speak to Cicero. Give me your words. I could still save the Brotherhood. We just need the two of us to be the seed of a new, better Family." 

There was only silence. 

Just like always. 

Always, always, always silence. 

Cicero walked around the room, checking for any corruption of life near his matron. There were no bugs, no dirt, no people. 

"Don't be so blind." 

Cicero spun towards the sarcophagus, elation on his face, as for a second he thought the Night Mother had finally spoken. That she had finally chosen him! 

"Is that your voice I hear, Mother?" Cicero asked. 

But, no, there was the silence from his sweet Mother. 

Disappointment flooded Cicero's face as his shoulder drooped. "Hmm... no, no, just my head playing tricks." 

Then the laughter was back, and Cicero realized that it was not Mother who spoke. No, it was the Jester. 

Laughing. Always, always, always laughing. 

The jester loved taunting Cicero, even in death. The jester had told Cicero that his position as Keeper was a joke. That Cicero had been chosen because no one else had wanted the job. Then he had laughed at Cicero, but Cicero had the last laugh when he killed the insufferable man. 

But then Mother had given the Jester back to Cicero as a gift. A dark gift, but a gift for him nonetheless. And now there was the laughter echoing in poor Cicero's empty head since there were no words from anyone anymore. 

There was Cicero, Mother, and the laughter. 

Always, always, always those three and no one else. 

"I just can't take any more, this life of solitude," Cicero muttered out loud. The noise startled him for a second. He hadn't spoken since Garnag left. Why should he? There was no one to talk to. 

"I can't take this anymore!" Cicero yelled, slamming his hands on the ground. "Speak to me! Speak to me! There's no one else!" Tears ran down his face. "Why won't you speak to me, you bitch? Why am I good enough to be your Keeper, but not your Listener? I hate you!" 

In a fit of fury, Cicero reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the Keeping Tomes. He threw the book at the Night Mother's coffin, but it flew wide and slammed against the wall instead. 

"I am done with you!" Cicero screamed, his rusty voice pitching higher and higher in scale. Part of him was worried that he would do permanent damage to his vocal cords, but part of him delighting in hearing a human's voice again. Even if it was his own. 

"I can leave at any time! Did you consider that, hm?" Cicero taunted as he tore at the Keeper's robes that he wore. He ripped the cloth off his form until he only wore a pair of pants and tossed it violently on the ground in front of the shrine. "You don't want me around? I'll just pack up all my things and leave! Ha, ha!" 

The Imperial turned so his back was to his Matron. "I'll just leave. Oh yes, Cicero will leave. He can go anywhere. How would you like that? Hm? How would you like to be left here alone in the dark rotting away with no one to know you're here? Why don't you speak up, Mother? Why don't you tell me how you feel about that? What do you do? Nothing! NOTHING!" 

Like a drunk, Cicero stumbled towards the Black Door. He would leave. He really would. Not a bluff. Cicero didn't bluff. 

To the Void with the Night Mother! 

There were millions of options out there for him. He could be anything he wanted. He could reunite with his blood family since his adoptive one had been inconsiderate enough to die. 

Cicero's hand was on the door knob, but he couldn't turn it. He found that he couldn't breathe. 

He looked over his shoulder to the Night Mother's shrine, cloaked in shadow. So alone. His poor Mother, alone. 

Always, always, always before she had Cicero. Loyal, sweet Cicero. 

All it would take would be a simple turn of the handle and he could leave. 

Cicero couldn't do it. 

He turned around and walked back to the Night Mother; his head hanging low. He picked up the robes and pulled them back over his head. Cicero checked for any dust or tears, and breathed a sigh of relief to find it unharmed. He crawled over to the Keeping Tomes, smoothed the crumpled pages, and placed it back in his pouch for safe keeping. 

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't mean it. I can't live without you. I don't hate you. I love you. Always, always, always, Cicero loves the Night Mother. I'm not angry. No, never. Cicero understands. Cicero always understands... and obeys." He slumped to the ground, hugging the coffin like a drowning man would hang onto a piece of drift wood. "Dear Cicero will keep you from harm, sweet mother, forever and always." 

Always, always, always.


End file.
